Ashes to Ashes
by Regina the Queen of Random
Summary: Something is chasing Bridget - the same thing that forced her parents to give her up. But will she be able to defeat it, or will she be the one to burn?
1. Bridget

**Regina, the Queen of Random:** Before I begin this, I would like to remind everyone who reads this that I do not own X-Men: Evolution in any form. I do not own any of the characters from that show, or who have appeared in anything else to do with X-Men. That was the disclaimer.  
  
Now for the introduction to this story. I am not going to say much about this, except to set a timeframe. This is somewhere about twenty years after the whole Apocalypse fiasco, and due to that, the end of the series. I hope you enjoy this story, and let me know what you think by using the review button. I am sorry if this chapter is longer than any of my usual work, but it was the only way to make it work. More will be explained in later chapters, although some of the more perceptive people may pick up a few things as they read. That's all from me. Regina, out.  
  
** Ashes to Ashes**  
  
_Chapter One: Bridget_  
  
The flames danced in front of her eyes, each one casting its flickering light onto her face.  
  
They could quite possibly be the most beautiful things she had ever seen.  
  
"All right, Bridget. Make a wish!"  
  
Bridget Jeffries blew out all of the candles on her birthday cake. There! It was official. She was fifteen!  
  
"So, Bridget, what did you wish for?" her mother, Adela, asked. She had arranged this surprise birthday party for Bridget and her friends.  
  
"Mom! You know that if I tell, it won't come true!" But for all of Bridget's shock, she hugged her mother. "Thanks, Mom. Where's Dad?"  
  
Adela looked around, decorated for a party and full of teenagers.  
  
"Who's up for a little 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey'?" boomed a familiar deep voice.  
  
"I thought you said he wasn't going to embarrass me!" Bridget hissed at her mother.  
  
Adela looked alarmed. "He promised!"  
  
Bridget's father, Justin, entered the room. Bridget and Adela glared at him. "Only joking! I just brought all of the presents in here, to save you going to get them." True to his words, his arms were loaded with presents. "Whoa!" he cried, nearly dropping one, but his wife caught it. "Thanks, honey," he said to her.  
  
Adela kissed him on the cheek. "Justin, put them on the table, next to the cake. We'll leave the kids to have fun, and not embarrass them." When Justin had safely deposited the presents, Adela took his arm and led him out the door. "Just don't burn the house down while we're out!" was the last thing she said, before shutting the door behind them.  
  
"Like I could!" laughed Bridget.  
  
A girl with pink-streaked blonde waves bounced from the other side of the room to stand next to Bridget. This was Melody Stevens, Bridget's best friend, and the two were striking contrasts. While Melody was fair, Bridget was darker, although her pale brown skin was several shades lighter than either of her parents. No one knew where in the family Bridget got her hair, which appeared dark brown, but when the light hit it, it burned red.  
  
But Bridget didn't care, although she was forever telling people that her hair was naturally that colour, and no, she could not tell you what colour hair-dye would give you that effect.  
  
"Open this one first!" Melody ordered. "It's from me," she added, although it was obvious to all. Melody could be a little ditzy at times, but only when she was excited, or on too much sugar. Bridget suspected both in this case.  
  
The wrapping paper was quickly torn off, and revealing a thick paperback novel. "The new Jonathan Hawkesby?!" Bridget asked, excited. Melody nodded. "Thank you!" Bridget squealed, bouncing up and down with her best friend happily.  
  
After a few more minutes of fierce unwrapping, it appeared that Bridget had unwrapped them all. "That's it?"  
  
"Hang on," added someone. "You forgot this one." Someone handed Bridget a plain white envelope. There was nothing written on it.  
  
Undisturbed, Bridget opened the envelope, and pulled out the card.  
  
Everyone, including Bridget, stared at the card, which Bridget had yet to open.  
  
The cover read, 'With Sympathies'.  
  
Bridget blinked. "It must be some mistake," she said, trying to put a smile on her face. "I mean, who would send me a card like this for my birthday?" She laughed, but her voice was drawn tight. She opened the card, and read the inside.  
  
With a gasp, she dropped the card. It fluttered to the floor. No one moved to pick it up, except for Melody. She read it, eyes cold. "Oh, this is sick. This is sick."  
  
"What did it say?" asked a voice.  
  
Melody did not speak, but Bridget did. "It said -" she lost her voice, and tried again. "It said, 'You will burn for your sins like they will.'"  
  
X X X  
  
The party broke up pretty quickly after that. Melody had phoned Adela and Justin while the other partygoers left. Melody stayed until Adela and Justin returned, then made her way home, just a few houses up the street.  
  
Justin stared at the card. "I told you, Adela, we were wrong to get involved in this."  
  
"She was my best friend, and it was my duty to her," Adela snapped. "And, after fifteen years, I thought that it was over."  
  
"But it's not, is it? 'You will burn for your sins like they will'. That means that they're still out there, still running. And that they are still being chased."  
  
"Who are?" asked Bridget, frightened. "What is going on? Who are they?"  
  
Justin ran his hands through his dark hair. "They left their problem with us," he said, ignoring his daughter, "thinking it was safer, but now look at it! She's no safer with us than with them!"  
  
"And so the last fifteen years have been a waste?" Adela shot back. "We swore that we would protect her, and we have done so!"  
  
"But it is beyond us!" Justin shouted. "I told you that taking her in was a mistake, and as much as I love her, she's put us all in danger!"  
  
"And so we just give up now?!" Adela shouted back. "There are other people we can ask for help! I am not the only one of her friends! They can protect her the way we can't, and they would have found out sooner or later! I know the signs!"  
  
"How can you tell?! Just because you knew her mother?!"  
  
"What are you talking about?!" Bridget cried. "Who are you talking about?!"  
  
Adela and Justin stared at her. "Your real parents," Adela said quietly. "They gave you to us when you were a baby. They thought they were protecting you by doing so."  
  
Bridget's liquid brown eyes widened. "What?" she whispered.  
  
"We're not your biological parents," Justin said quietly. "We're sorry."  
  
Things went all hazy for Bridget; she couldn't breathe. She was adopted?  
  
"Bridget?" asked Adela, cautiously.  
  
"Who are they?" Bridget gasped.  
  
"I don't think-"  
  
"Who are they?!" she screamed. "I want to know!"  
  
Adela and Justin looked at each other. The look they gave each other was: We knew we had to tell her someday. But what do we say?  
  
"Your mother was my best friend growing up. I was two years older than her, but that didn't matter where we grew up. It was a small place," Adela added quietly, looking at her feet. "Most people didn't know about it. Most still don't. Your mother and I are two of the very few people who have left it."  
  
"Where?" whispered Bridget, sounding suddenly very tired.  
  
Adela shook her head. "I can't tell you. That was part of the promise I made to your parents. Well, to your mother. She was the one who came to me. We spoke several times before we saw you."  
  
"What about my. . . father?"  
  
"I didn't know him. We only met him the one time, and that was when he and your mother gave you to us. He loved you though, that much I could see."  
  
"What were their names?"  
  
"We can't tell you," Justin said. "It's for your own safety. There is somebody after your parents, and knowing who they are might make things worse."  
  
"But they already know who I am," Bridget stated. "How much worse can it get?"  
  
"Much, much worse, Bridget. Trust us. Trust your birth parents. They did what was best for you." Adela reached out and placed a hand on Bridget's shoulder in a gesture of comfort.  
  
Bridget shrugged the hand off. "Don't touch me."  
  
"Bridget. . ."  
  
"You lied to me for fifteen years. How can I trust you?"  
  
"Because we are your parents," Justin replied.  
  
"No, you are not." Bridget's voice was like ice. She got up and headed for the front door.  
  
"Where are you going?" asked Adela.  
  
"I don't know," replied Bridget. "And I honestly don't care."  
  
"It's not safe out there."  
  
Bridget opened the door. "You should have thought of that fifteen years ago."  
  
Adela winced as the door slammed behind Bridget. Justin did nothing except stare straight ahead, his expression blank.  
  
X X X  
  
Bridget ran. She did not know where she was going, she did not know how long she had been running. All she knew was that she had to get away, clear her head.  
  
She would go home soon enough, but right now, she just needed some space, and time to think. Her parents - no, her adoptive parents - had lied to her for fifteen years, and now they would not even tell her the names of her biological parents. They wouldn't -  
  
There was a screech of tires, and Bridget looked up.  
  
She had not been paying attention to where she was going, and had run right into the middle of the road. Someone - a completely random person - had been driving along that road right then. Seeing Bridget, he had slammed on the brakes, and swerved to miss her.  
  
He missed her by what seemed like a mile, and ended up slamming into a tree. The driver got out of the car, and started yelling at her.  
  
"Are you crazy! What the hell is wrong with you?! You idiot, I could have hit you! And now look what you've done to my car!"  
  
"I'm sorry," Bridget managed to get out. This, added to the shock of finding out she was adopted, made it even harder to breathe.  
  
"You're sorry? You're sorry?!" yelled the man. "Do you know how much this is going to cost to get fixed? Well, you know something? You are going to pay for this to get fixed!"  
  
"It was an accident. . ."  
  
The man did not stop yelling. He kept shouting at Bridget, getting louder and louder. The racket he was making brought everyone who had not heard the collision out to see what was going on.  
  
Bridget looked around. This was starting to scare her.  
  
But what was even worse was that other thing that she was feeling.  
  
The man made her angry, and every word he said made her even angrier. He could have killed her, but he cared more about his car.  
  
And then. . . something amazing happened.  
  
The feeling started up behind her eyes, like they were rising in temperature, and everything seemed to take on a faint red colour. The heat behind her eyes spread throughout her body as she got angrier and angrier. Her hands began to feel as though they were on fire - it would have been painful, had it not felt amazing.  
  
Her eyes focused on the man's car. The car that was the problem, the thing she was angriest at, after the man who was still yelling at her.  
  
Oh, how she hated that car.  
  
And then it happened.  
  
The heat behind her eyes, and in her hands, burst forward. But only she saw it.  
  
Flames, visible only to her, sprang forward, flying through the air, heading towards the object of her anger.  
  
And then the moment the invisible flames struck the car, the whole vehicle burst into flames, real as the candles that had been on her birthday cake.  
  
"What the hell?!" shouted the man, before running a safe distance away.  
  
Bridget stared at her hands in horror. Skimming across the surface of her hands were red-gold flames, but they did not hurt her. As she watched, they disappeared beneath the skin, filling her completely.  
  
Bridget wished she could say the same for the car, which was now almost completely engulfed in flames now.  
  
"It's her!" shouted the man. "She did it! She's a mutant!"  
  
Bridget sat down hard. She knew what a mutant was, and, horrified, realised that she was one, too. Perhaps that was why her parents had abandoned her - they were mutants, and they had wanted her to be safe from mutant hunters (Bridget had heard about those), and to live a normal life, at least until her powers showed up.  
  
Tears leaked out of Bridget's eyes, and the faint red colour faded away, leaving everything its normal colour. She stayed there on the grass, only half-hearing the sirens that were racing to take her away. 


	2. Chaotic Truth

**Regina:** Okay, I'm gonna keep this short, and just say that this chapter may explain things a bit better. I hope that I haven't made things too obvious, although the one person who I have 'spoken' to about it picked up pretty quickly, but I guess he just knows me a tad too well for my liking. No offence, pal who shall remain nameless.

Anyway, I am just going to do the whole shamless plug thing, and advertise my websites, Burning Souls (at ) and Mutant High ). Oh, and when I get it up, my Beast website. Yep, that's about it. But until then, just sit back, and enjoy this next chapter of Ashes to Ashes.

And A.P.R? You're right. Bridget's power is cool. And as you helped me come to the decision to post this fic, this chapter, and possibly many other subsequent chapters are for you.

**Ashes to Ashes**

_Chapter Two: Chaotic Truth_

Bridget absently traced the edges of her chair. She was sitting in an interview room in the local police station, having been taken their after she had set the car on fire.

As she was a minor, they could not question her without her parents, and as she was a mutant, most of the officers did not want to be near her. And so they left her alone in the room, kept there by a locked door, and watched her from behind the relative safety of a two-way mirror.

Bridget let out a sigh. She had not said a word since she had set the car on fire. She had not told the police who she was, where she lived, or the name of her parents. She did not want to get her parents in trouble, even though they had been lying to her for her entire life. She regretted how terrible she had been to them, and wondered if she would ever get the chance to make things right between them.

But most of all, she wondered about her birth parents. What was her mother like? Did she have her mother's eyes? What about her father? Did she have his nose, his hair? What about siblings, did she have any of those?

The main question though, was why had they abandoned her. Was the person who had sent her the card the person who had frightened them so much, that they had to give up their daughter? Were they still running, or had something happened to them? Was that person now after Bridget?

Bridget was so lost in her thoughts that she did not hear the door open behind her. She did however, hear the voice which spoke to her, and caused her to look up.

"So, you're the firebrand who set that car on fire. They told me I might find you here."

Bridget looked up. The speaker was a woman, in her mid to late thirties. She had short blonde hair, bright eyes, and a wicked smile.

But when the woman saw Bridget's face, something happened. The smile vanished, and the spark in the eyes was replaced by a look of shock and confusion.

"Amara?" the woman whispered.

"What did you call me?"

The woman blinked. "Amara? Is it really you?" Then she raced forward, and grabbed Bridget around the shoulders. "Amara? It is you! But. . . but how? After all these years. . . you're still alive! But what happened to you? You don't look a day over fifteen! Sam, come have a look at this!"

The door opened again, and a blonde man came out, about the same age as the woman. His reaction was the same as the woman's. "Amara? But. . . it's not possible!"

The woman held Bridget tighter. "Amara? Don't you recognise me? It's Tabitha!"

Bridget wriggled and squirmed in an attempt to free herself from the woman's arms. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not this Amara person. My name is Bridget Jeffries. I'm fifteen, I. . . I live at 24 Lincoln Road. . ."

The woman let Bridget go. "You're not Amara?" She squinted at Bridget. "You're right. You looks a lot like her, but some things are not right."

"Her hair," said the man. "It's got red in it."

"And the nose," added the woman. "It's not quite right. But how?"

For the second time that day Bridget shouted, "What are you talking about?! Who are you talking about?!"

The man and woman looked at each other. "You'd better sit down, girl," said the woman, "'cause you are not going to believe what we are about to tell you."

"You'd be surprised," Bridget replied dryly, sitting back down on the chair, "after the day I've had."

X X X

"My name is Tabitha Smith, and this is Sam Guthrie," began the woman. "We're both mutants, just like you. I'm Meltdown, and he's Cannonball. We're also members of the X-Men - well, one of its many branches. But we were some of the first."

"But what does that have to do with me?" asked Bridget.

"Well," said Sam, taking over from Tabitha, "we have this thing called Cerebro, and it tracks all mutants. And when you set that car on fire, it picked up on you. You're very powerful," he added, "and when we find a mutant with that sort of power - one that can cause a lot of damage - we find them. Our goal is to teach mutants to control their powers, and themselves."

"Wow," said Tabitha. "You really paid attention to those lectures we got when we were kids." She turned back to Bridget. "You're one of those mutants. We want you to come back with us. And now that we've seen you, we really want you to come with us."

Bridget looked from Tabitha, to Sam, and then back to Tabitha. "Why now? Why now that you've seen me?"

"Well," Sam was hesitant. "You look like someone we knew when were your age. Her name was Amara."

"She was my best friend at the Institute," added Tabitha. "And her mutant power was fire."

"Yeah, well, I don't know any Amara," Bridget replied. "I'm just plain old – okay, maybe not so ordinary–"

"You're anything but ordinary," Tabitha said with a smile.

"But I don't know anyone named Amara. I'm just –"

"Bridget Jeffries!"

Amara, Sam and Tabitha all looked up to see a very angry Adela, accompanied by a much meeker Justin.

"You run away. . . don't let us know where you are. . . we had to find out from the police?!"

Tabitha stood up in front of Bridget. "You must be her parents."

"Yes, we are her parents," replied Justin, stepping between Tabitha and Adela. "And who are you?"

"I am Meltdown, and what I want to know is why your daughter looks so much like Amara Aquilla."

Behind Justin, Adela let out a gasp. "What have you been telling my daughter? What do you know about Amara?" She pushed her way in front of her husband, who at this point had just given up trying to stop her. "Did they hurt you Bridget?" she asked, holding onto Bridget as if for dear life. "Are you all right?"

"Adela, let her go! She's starting to turn purple!" This was Justin.

When Adela finally let go, Tabitha said, "You have to admit it, Bridget does look like a dead-ringer for Amara. And I think you know who I'm talking about."

"I do," Adela replied softly. "But I promised her that I would say nothing. For her," Adela looked at Bridget, her eyes starting to tear.

"There's only one explanation for this," Tabitha continued. "And I think she should hear it from you."

"Do you know what they're talking about?" Sam asked Justin, both of whom had moved out the firing line between Tabitha and Adela.

"I think so."

Adela let out a sigh. "I haven't spoken about this for nearly fifteen years. Bridget, you found out today that I am not your biological mother, and that Justin is not your biological father." Tabitha nodded, having figured this out quite early on. "Well, I think it is time you knew the whole story."

"What's going on?" asked Bridget.

"I grew up on the island of Nova Roma. My best friend growing up was Amara Aquilla, the daughter of the king. But then she found out she was a mutant, and went to America, to a school for mutants. About five years later, when I was living in America, and had just married to your father, I saw her again. She came to me, begging for me to help her infant daughter. That was you, Bridget. She said that something was after her and her husband, a great power that nobody could fight, not even then. They did not want you to have to live that life, or even worse, die for it. So they asked that I raise you as my daughter, keep you safe, and most importantly, not let you know the truth."

"But now I've been found," Bridget whispered.

"Yes," Adela said sadly. "And I think it's time that you learn the truth about Amara, and

become what she should have been."

"An X-Man," Tabitha finished.


	3. Arrival at the Xavier Institute

**Regina:** I'm sorry I haven't updated so long - life has just been so hectic. I got a new computer, except it was faulty, and then when it was in the shop to be fixed, it was stolen! But it's funny in a way - someone's out there with my broken computer! Ha ha on them!

Anyway this is chapter three of Ashes to Ashes, and Bridget finally arrives at the Institute. . . but someone isn't so pleased to meet her - you'll be surprised as to who it is!

**Ashes to Ashes**

_Chapter Three: Arrival at the Xavier Institute _

"I still can't believe your parents agreed to let you come with us that easily. The look on your Mom's face when she saw us. . . would rather face Apocalypse again than take on her."

"I don't know about that, Tabby, but yeah, she was mad. Okay, everyone, get ready to land." There was a brief shudder, and then the aircraft, which Tabitha had explained was one of several belonging to the X-Men, stopped moving completely.

"All right, Bridget, here we are," said Tabitha, unbuckling her seatbelt. "The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, in Bayville, New York."

Bridget got her first look at the place she was to call home now that she knew what she was - and partly _who_ she was - as soon as she stepped out of the craft. Whatever she had been expecting, it was not this, not a large mansion with sweeping grounds on top of a hill overlooking a beautiful city.

"Isn't it beautiful?" asked Tabitha. "And it's where you're gonna live, too. Just like Amara."

_Amara._ Bridget still was not used to hearing that name, although she knew that this Amara was her biological mother, and that she, too, was a mutant whose power was connected in some way to fire, though not quite like Bridget's own power.

"Little help?" came Sam's voice from the other side of the aircraft. He appeared a few moments later, struggling with one of Bridget's bags. "I don't know how you girls can have so much stuff," he complained, and dropped the bag.

"That's just my books," Bridget said sheepishly. "I like to read."

"Oh, no!" groaned Sam, and retreated back inside, to get the next lot of Bridget's luggage.

"Don't worry, Sam," Tabitha called, "I'll get some help." She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "Hey, everybody! Get out here, we've got company, and you're never gonna guess who!"

Tabitha's call seemed to have worked, because moments afterwards the front door of the mansion opened, and people began to file out.

The first was a man with brown hair, a few years younger than Tabitha and Sam. He stopped suddenly when he saw Bridget, the look on his face disbelieving. His stop was so unexpected that the man who was walking behind him bumped into him. This wouldn't have caused Bridget to gasp, but when the man was knocked forwards, he seemed to produce clones of himself, so that there were now four of him in all.

The man who had bumped into the man with the ability to clone himself appeared to be, in Bridget's eyes, of South American origin. Nothing happened to him as he walked along the grass, and Bridget was glad for this.

Walking next to the South American man was a woman with red-brown hair, which she wore in two short pigtails. Again, nothing extraordinary happened with her.

And finally, behind everyone, and towering over them all, was a giant of a man, with dark hair, and he seemed to be the oldest of them all. His face, although it had been kind and gentle from a distance, darkened with suspicion when he saw Bridget.

Bridget shivered; she had done nothing, it seemed, and yet the tall man did not seem to like her. She did not want someone like him to be mad at her.

Tabitha placed her hands on her hips in a gesture of annoyance. "Is this all there is?" she called to the group. "Where are the others?"

"Westchester!" called the woman. "There was some big emergency, but we said we'd stay and wait for you, and your - oh, my God!" The woman was now close enough to see Bridget properly, and she was not the only one to react that way.

The group were all wearing looks of shock and surprise; their eyes were wide and staring; and the South American man's mouth hung open slightly. The only one whose face showed no sign of change was the tall man, and now that he was closer, Bridget could see worry and pity in his dark eyes.

"Amara?" asked the South American man. "Is it you?"

Tabitha shook her head, a big grin on her face. "Nope, it's not Amara." She laughed.

_At least someone's enjoying this,_ Bridget thought darkly.

"Then who is it?" asked the woman, although Bridget got the impression that she had already started to put the clues together.

"Told you you couldn't guess." Tabitha was still grinning. "This is her daughter, Bridget."

"DAUGHTER!" they all cried in unison, save the tall man.

"Yep."

"Nice to meet you," Bridget said weakly.

"But how?" asked the South America man.

"I think we all know _how_, 'Berto," Tabitha, "unless we need to have the talk again." The woman and the four clones laughed. Behind them, Sam probably would have too, but he was struggling, red-faced, with the second of Bridget's bags.

"Little help?" he gasped.

"Just let me get through the introductions first, Sam," Tabitha called over her shoulder, ignoring the strange sounds Sam made as he fell to the ground, and stopped moving.

"This is - or rather, these are - Jamie Maddrox," Tabitha said, referring to the four identical men. "But we call him Multiple Man, 'cause he can, well, you saw."

Bridget nodded, not saying anything.

"And this is Roberto DaCosta. He takes energy from the sun and uses it for his own purposes. So his mutant name is Sunspot." The South America man - Roberto - waved, smiling at Bridget, and so did the woman. It would have made Bridget feel more at ease, had it not been for the giant standing at the back of the group.

"The woman is Rahne Sinclaire, and she can turn herself into a wolf."

"It's great for Halloween," Rahne added, smiling. "I'm called Wolfsbane, by the way."

"Hi."

"And last - and _definitely_ not least, is Peter Rasputin. We call him Colossus because, well, you can see why, but _I_ call him Tin-Man because he can turn himself into metal."

Peter's expression did not change.

"Why don't you, Rahne and Bridget go inside?" suggested Roberto. "We were just about to have dinner. And don't worry about your stuff, Bridget. Us men will bring it in."

"_Men_?" asked Tabitha with mock annoyance. "Well, I'm sorry if us _women_ aren't strong enough to help. Are you coming, _Samantha_?" She and Rahne laughed as Sam struggled to get off the ground.

Bridget was unsure of what to do until she felt a touch on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Bridget. They'll take good care of your stuff - at least, they _should_. Come on, you must be hungry after flying here. I know Tabitha is - I recognise that look in her eyes."

"Hey! But you're right. Let's go." She began walking towards the mansion itself, with

Rahne and Bridget following after her, and Sam slowly bring up the rear.

Bridget allowed herself one look behind her. Jamie had made more copies of himself, and as small groups, the clones were carrying her things. Roberto appeared to burst into flame, his body burning black at the centre of the flame. He picked up her bags with ease. Peter calmly picked up some luggage, obviously not needing to use his mutant powers, he was that strong.

When Peter looked at her as she walked away, Bridget's heart sank.

What had she done wrong?


End file.
